


MARCH (Gerard Way short story)

by whothefuckisana



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: I Don't Even Know, I don't know what the fuck am I doing, M/M, My First AO3 Post, My First Fanfic, weird as fuck, what the fuck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 00:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9265220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whothefuckisana/pseuds/whothefuckisana
Summary: He went through a lot.He witnessed his own death.This is his story.





	

Chapter 1.  
The clock shows 5:12 pm.  
I am waiting for the answer that will, most probably, never come, at least not for 2 hours and 24 minutes sharp. Am I wasting my time?  
At 5:09 pm the light outside flickered, died, flickered again and started shining white. Out the open window I hear faint laughter of exactly four teenagers, and now I am guessing, that spend 6 or 7 hours per day for 5 out of 7 days of the week in the high school on my street. Half an hour ago I heard two cars parking in front of it. They must be the ones who came then.  
Of course, I will never actually know the truth if they are, indeed, the ones who parked in front of the Saint Mary High School at 4:18 pm when I was listening to music or if they do go every week for five days to listen to some professor mumble about some boring subject that nobody likes in Mary High. But I am sure as hell I am right about one thing: they are four and they come every Wednesday to look at the amazing sunset that inspires me to draw whatever the fuck I even think I am drawing.  
The clock shows 5:24 pm.  
I am waiting for answers that will, most probably, never come, at least not for 2 hours and 12 minutes sharp. I am not wasting my time.  
I peak at the other corner of the room to make sure there is no dead girl that wants me to share the same fate as her. My eyes meet the floor in exactly 25 seconds since my eyes left the pale, but not quite white paper. The sunset is almost over as the clock shows 5:28 pm. I sigh. The inspiration will soon be gone and I - no, I didn't waste my time; I never do - spent my time thinking about the four teenagers outside.  
As the clock shows 5:30 pm, a loud "ding" can be heard from the church. I shiver. In less than 20 minutes, the sunset will disappear and I will be left alone again in my room, the darkness creeping down the still open window, shouting and screeching on the floor. And 20 minutes is such a short time comparing it to the 24 hours or the day.  
5:34 pm. The calming atmosphere disappears.  
I was wrong: here I am, in my darkened room, the sunset barely there, but alive and helping me survive for more than 4 minutes. One minute later, two more teenagers come. It makes me wonder how many innocents have they picked on and how many times have they killed an already poor self-esteem of some other shy teenager.  
5:38 pm, now I know what is one of their names; Anna. I adore this name, but I suddenly remember that, last Wednesday, a girl named Anna picked on Mikey.  
5:40 pm, the sunset is saying its last words. See you tomorrow, reddish glow. I will miss you.  
Silence.  
They did something, I heard it. Did they... leave? I heard fallen leaves moving...  
No, they're there. Thank god. I don't wanna be a potential murderer for the police or a witness.  
5:44 pm, a dog is barking. Shut the fuck up, please. Thank you.  
Another car.  
5:45 pm, the sunset's heart stopped. It should have a name; maybe Hayley. I like Hayley, it's a nice name. Bye Hayley, see you tomorrow!  
I miss her already.  
Sighing, I flick the lights on as another car parked. Man, they are a full flock of annoying birds, aren't they?  
I jump on the double bed casually, like I do every day. I look at the open window one last time before I lay down, listening closely. I close my eyes and I wait. He should get here any moment now.  
"How kind of you to join the party, Way..." I hear Bert saying before all the memories flood into my head and I pass out.  
-  
I open my eyes slowly. Of fucking course she freaked out and fucking took me to hell - I'm sorry, I meant hospital.  
And the worst thing is that she knew I am afraid of needles. And where do you find many needles? At the fucking hospital! I like to believe I am needless of needles. I know, that was an awful pun, but I couldn't stand not saying it. Whatever, thinking it. Don't judge me. I have too many puns and these puns are just too bad for me not to say them. And now, the needles...  
"Lindsey!" I yell, jumping at the sight of needles injected in my veins, pumping a see-through liquid through four thin tubes. I aggressively pull them out of my arm and breathing gets even harder than it already was. Little bugs crawl on my eyes as panic blurs my vision and I start drifting away slowly, passing out again.  
Before the bugs block my sight and I fall back into the dark alley where it all began, I hear three voices that discuss killing me or just beating me up really bad. I feel the cold air filling up my lungs after a long time of involuntary holding my breath and a mixed sound of relief and pain goes out through my mouth, making my vocal chords hurt. It burns me, their voices. The voices that I haven't heard for a long time and I hoped I wasn't going to hear again. I think we all know that's a lie: these two voices crawl beneath my skin like I ate a blade and it now cuts me every time I breath. And I really did eat a blade, but not really. Metaphorically, I ate a hundred Karambit knives. I did a lot of things metaphorically. I was in a lot of places metaphorically. All the metaphors in my head go away, except for the ones that, well, are the 7th day of March-related. Those metaphors stay inside this pretty little head of mine for years, literally. And the voices have been here for a while.  
The cold air remains in my lungs for what feels like an hour while I am unable to inhale or exhale properly, choking and gasping for breath. A hand touches mine and I can feel scalding tears that send electric shots through my frozen cold body and my eyes hurt.  
With the last breath I can take I stutter a halting "Je suis désolé, tu me manques" to the human being that sits next to me. All I said, I mean it.

Suddently, the voices stop and the cold wind disappears. There are too many bugs on my pupils to see. I close them so I can focus on touching, smelling or hearing, like a blind man.

Another round of whispering begins as I lay in the cool room, the tears still burning the skin around my eyes. I let out a little sob and the room gets louder. A patter of beeps stings my ears and the voices get thicker, faster. I try to say the first letter of the alphabet to see if I can speak, but nothing comes out of my dry mouth. The voices lower, the beeps get faster. The pattern changes. 

"No, we need to take him out, dude. The mofo knows too much."

Bang!


End file.
